« Whack! | Main | Punching In »

Friday, August 28, 2009

My Preciousssss

Finally! Summer holidays, fourteen days peace and calm. Well, I don't know about that, but at least I don't have to go to work each day. I'm trying to stay away from my DIY tools, but this Tuesday was marked on the calendar: I'd promised my parents to re-plaster the kitchen wall after they'd had a new giant window installed.

It was a difficult job, with lots of fiddling behind central heating pipes, scores of corners, combining existing plasterwork with new patches and so on. I started around eleven in the morning and I'd finally finished by ten in the evening. But I must say, I was proud on the quality of my work. I feel I can say I'm starting to master the difficult discipline of plastering walls.

We stayed over at my parents', because the next day we were going to the Efteling, a theme park in Holland. But when we drove off, I noticed I wasn't wearing my wedding ring. So we turned back as I tried to remember if and where I'd taken it off. I remembered that I was wearing it while working, something I normally don't do and that I shouldn't do. I ran up and down the house trying to find it, but it wasn't in the bedroom or the bathroom or the kitchen or the living room...

Rivulets of cold sweat were streaming down my back as I contemplated the only other option: it must have slipped off in a bucket of water – or worse – in a bucket of plaster. So my father and I toppled over the bags of surplus plaster that were still in the garden and prodded the stuff apart to look for the ring.

We couldn't find it, and because we were supposed to meet my sister and sister in law with their children at the amusement park, we drove off. Meanwhile dad started to sift trough the half hardened muck in the hope of finding it.

We had a blast at the Efteling – although it took us ages to find the others – but the lost ring kept bothering me. In the afternoon, I got a text message that my father's archaeological methods had failed to bring the ring to the surface.

At this point I can tell you that Mrs.B was very much NOT amused by my loss. Sis-in-law poured some gasoline on the fire by saying that this was a bad omen for our marriage. There was tension in the air.

The next day I got a phone call from my mum. She'd found the ring! In the washing machine – how it had gotten there is beyond me, really. But it doesn't matter, I've got it back! I'm saved!!!

My Preciousssss...

Posted by Bart at 6:31 PM
Categories:


Contact me:

Contact me (24K)